Mamá

Mamá,

I don’t want to be like you

I don’t want to carry chains

that restrain my arms

from the sacred flight

I don’t want my eyes

to get accustomed to the night

and not see the light

crossing the delicate leaves

of the apricot tree 

Mamá,

I don’t want to bleed my own body

I want it to burst alive

like sunflowers in field  

striving for a sunbeam

I don’t want my voice

to get lost amidst the wind

I want it to resonate fearless

like the savage fire  

that crackles and extends

Mamá,

I don’t want to evade my solitude

I want to embrace and embellish it

like the stars that kindle

the algid dusk

I don’t want to bear your cross

that weighs on the back

bruising the soul

muddling the mind

losing the essence

Mamá,

I don’t want the heart

to get tired of throbbing

I don’t want the spirit to discourage

even if the path is not the waited